Warning: these rants are entirely based off rampant speculation and knee-jerk reactionism. You have been warned.

OK, first off: one of the hot books with a lot of holds on it here at the library is The Great Depression Ahead: How to Prosper in the Crash Following the Greatest Boom in History. OK, I can dig why that book might be a high-demand item in this day and age. The author is Harry S. Dent, Jr., who the very cover of said book then points out is the "New York Times bestselling author of The Roaring 2000s and The Next Great Bubble Boom". So basically what we have here is one of the clueless boobs who, Jim Cramer-style, ra-ra-ra'd us right into the shithole we currently find ourselves sitting in, and now he's going to come down dispensing further "wisdom" from on high, still pedaling the same old self-centered greed-centric rhetoric that got us into this mess in the first place. How much you want to bet his methods are neither helpful nor constructive towards the greater good? In these uncertain times, I'm pretty sure that's a sure bet!

Secondly: I noticed on the news this morning a screen-shot of the top downloads on Walmart.com's MP3 listing (about as close to a vox populi of the current mainstream musical trends as I can figure). The top two spots were held by Lady Gaga and Flo-rida. OK, since when--WHEN--did it become acceptable for popular musical acts to have baby names? Next month's top musical act: Kaka-Doodoo-Bahbah. I mean, seriously.

::old geezer mode::
When I were a lad, and well before that even, musical acts had cool names. Evocative names. Names that made you go, "Wicked!" or "Boss!" or what have you. Guns N' Roses. Public Enemy. Nirvana. Black Sabbath. Even the silly ones, like Mötley Crüe or Run-D.M.C., still had a certain gravitas to them. Now, I say "Lady Gaga" or "Flo-rida" out loud and I can actually feel my brain cells dying. I don't even care what their music sounds like--I can't even get past the ridiculous names. Ah well, I am now officially old. Great.

In case you haven't heard, Michael Crichton died yesterday. So I just had to laugh when I got to work this morning, took a truck of books out to shelve, and saw this spine staring up at me:



lawlz